Held by Faith and Love: My Breast Cancer Journey

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2024, it changed the way I looked at everything. I had to learn to live with unanswered questions, let go of plans, and take life one day at a time.

In the middle of it all, I began to understand more deeply what it means to be held: by my family, by my community, by our traditions, and by my faith in G-d.

I am sharing my story because I want other women to feel less alone. And because if these words encourage even one woman to make an appointment she has been postponing, ask about her family history, or speak up about a change in her body, sharing them will have been worth it.

Making Our Health a Priority

As Jewish women, there is a conversation about breast cancer and genetics that we need to have openly. Certain inherited changes in the BRCA1 and BRCA2 genes are more common among people of Ashkenazi Jewish ancestry and can increase the risk of breast and ovarian cancer. There is no single “Jewish breast cancer gene,” and having Jewish ancestry does not mean that someone will develop cancer. But it does mean that ancestry belongs in the conversation with our doctors, alongside our personal and family histories.

My own genetic testing was negative. And yet, breast cancer still became part of my life. A negative genetic test does not mean that we cannot develop breast cancer, and it does not replace appropriate screening.

Please keep up with the screening recommended for your age and individual risk. Get to know what is normal for your breasts, and have any new changes evaluated. Ask your doctor whether genetic counseling is appropriate for you. Early detection matters, and screening can help find breast cancer before symptoms appear.

We spend so much of our lives taking care of the people we love. Our own health deserves that same attention. In Judaism, we place profound value on life, and caring for ourselves feels like an expression of that value.

Learning to Trust, One Day at a Time

One of my hardest lessons was accepting how much I could not control. I wanted answers. I wanted certainty. I wanted to know how every part of the journey would unfold.

Instead, I learned to live one day at a time.

Emunah, my faith in G-d, became something I returned to every day. Bitachon, trust, helped me move through the uncertainty. I prayed in the morning and at night. Sometimes I had so much to say. Sometimes all I could do was ask for the strength to face what was in front of me.

There were still tears, fear, and difficult days. My faith gave me somewhere to bring all of them. Alongside my medical care, prayer helped sustain me emotionally and spiritually.

I also learned to listen to my body. To rest without guilt. To say no when I needed to. To ask for help and, just as importantly, to accept it.

Therapy became an essential part of caring for myself too. I learned to be kinder to the woman I was becoming through each stage and to stop comparing my experience with anyone else’s.

Surrounded by Love

I had always known that I was loved. During treatment, I felt that love in ways I will carry with me forever.

My family and friends gave me room to be exactly who I was that day: hopeful, exhausted, scared, grateful. I did not have to have the right attitude or the right words to deserve their care. They were simply there.

And our community showed me how much kindness people are capable of giving. There were calls, meals, rides, visits, and company during treatment. There were people who helped care for my children and people who listened when I needed to talk. Friends who lived far away found ways to be present.

I received so many thoughtful and meaningful gifts, each chosen with such care for what I needed or what might make me smile. I have always loved birthdays and the feeling of being celebrated, and during that time, I often felt as though every day was my birthday—surrounded by love and reminded of how much I mattered.

That is chesed, loving-kindness, as I experienced it: someone noticing a need and making it just a little easier to get through the day.

I have always loved giving. Learning to receive so much care was humbling. It taught me that accepting help gives others the opportunity to express their love, and that we do not have to carry everything ourselves.

The Rituals That Carried Me

People read Tehillim, the Psalms, for me. They lit Shabbat candles with me in their prayers, put on tefillin, gave tzedakah, and performed mitzvot in my name. Friends joined me to make challah on Fridays. Even when we were apart, I felt remembered, prayed for, and surrounded by love.

These acts brought comfort to days that could otherwise feel overwhelming. Our traditions gave us a way to do something with our worry and our hope: to pray, to give, to gather, and to care for one another.

Shabbat offered a familiar rhythm when so much else had changed. The candles, the blessings, and the people around the table helped me feel connected to the life I loved and to generations who had turned to these same rituals for comfort.

This experience also deepened the meaning of the work my sister and I do at Apeloig Collection. We have always wanted to create Judaica that people love bringing into their homes and using in their lives. Now, I feel even more connected to what happens around those objects: the prayer beside the candles, the blessing over the wine, the family gathered around the challah.

I think about the homes our pieces enter and the moments they become part of. Through my own journey, I came to understand even more deeply how much comfort, connection, and meaning those moments can hold.

Moving Forward with Gratitude

I carry scars and lessons from this experience. I am still learning patience, still learning to rest, still learning to let the little things go. But I know now just how precious it is to have an ordinary day with the people I love.

I am deeply grateful for the care I received, for my faith, and for the community that stood beside me. I want to carry that gratitude forward by giving, by showing up for others, and by speaking openly about the importance of caring for our health.

If you are going through something difficult, I hope you feel able to ask for what you need. You deserve care on the days when you feel strong and on the days when you do not.

And if there is an appointment you have been putting off, please make it. Let caring for yourself be part of caring for everyone you love.

My prayer is for healing, for many more years of life together, and for the chance to give back some of the love I have received.

L’chaim. To life, with all my heart.